Peri tucked in closer, her fingers searching to try to get him to turn off the TV. “Lit for the first time while making love, I suppose, to make them even more powerful?” she questioned coyly, looking at her own candles scattered about.

“And then . . .” He stood to get the bottle, pulling himself away from her and making her pout. “You have your wine.” He wove on his feet, tipsy. “Which is magic in itself. Wine and salt moved the ancient world, Peri,” he said, bottle in hand. “Wine and salt. You think that’s just coincidence?” he said, lurching and accidentally knocking his glass.

“Whoops!” Jack exclaimed as he reached for it. The glass hit the table with a crack, wine spilling. His reflexes were better drunk than most people’s sober, but Jack hissed as he cut himself on the broken rim. “Ow,” he said flatly, looking at the blood seeping out his finger, smearing it on the chipped glass as he refilled it.

Peri shook her head, dabbing up the spill with the cloth he’d wrapped around the wine bottle. “See what happens when you try to summon demons? You hurt yourself. I’m not going to draft to fix it,” she said as she leaned back into the cushions and took a sip of her own drink. “Not when I’m . . . this buzzed.” Blinking, she looked at her glass. “Wow, this stuff is strong.”

“But I haven’t finished,” Jack said, still standing with his chipped wineglass in hand. “I haven’t said the words of power yet.”

“Fine,” she said, laughing. “Impress me with your . . . summoning skills,” she said, having just heard the words on the TV.

Jack pulled himself into a dramatic pose, raising his broken glass. “Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again,” he intoned.

Peri snorted into her wineglass. “No fair, no fair!” she protested. “You can’t use old Simon and Garfunkel lyrics.” She kicked her boots off and drew her feet up onto the cushions as Carnac jumped onto the couch, wanting her lap. The cat was still licking the last of his dinner off his whiskers.

Jack looked fantastic against the sparkling backdrop of Detroit, even if he was weaving somewhat. “As I settle with my alpha bitch,” he improvised, “who’s going to help me satisfy an itch?” he sang.

Peri beamed. “At least it rhymes,” she said, encouraging him.

“Who keeps making fun,” Jack sang, “of what I like. To watch. On TV?” He drooped his head and drew his chipped glass to his chest dramatically. “So cruel to me. I summon you in silence,” he finished.

Arms spread wide, Jack looked up at the ceiling in expectation, and Peri laughed, holding Carnac on her lap. “Come back, Jack. I’ll watch your lame show, but you owe me.”